A Stranger's Secret Daily Art Project
Someone is the artist-in-residence of this rock
There’s an art mystery in my neighborhood
In the park near my house, up in a little forested section where not many people go, there is a rock that I suspect is actually a sculpture. It has a very elegant shape and a flat top, and it has been placed quite deliberately alongside the trail like a pedestal.
A pedestal for what, though?
Someone has come up with an answer.
I’m not exactly sure when this started, but I’ve been walking past this rock pretty regularly for a few years now, and it has never not had a carefully considered arrangement of flowers, leaves, cones, seeds, lichen, and branches arranged upon its flat top.
It changes with the seasons, of course. You’ll see bright white snowberries in winter, and now, in February. the witch hazel just showed up, and there will be hellebore soon and then cherry blossoms and maybe a rose or two. But mostly, the arrangement is very woodsy, a lot of cedar and fir, some good bark, plenty of cones and needles.
Here are just a few photos I’ve taken of it over the years.
I don’t know who is unleashing all this senseless beauty into the world. Is it one person or a collective? Is it possible that someone started it, then other people took up the idea, and now a group of total strangers, who have perhaps never met or seen one another, add and subtract and tend to this ephemeral work of art?
Whoever they are, they have never missed a day, as far as I can tell.
I can imagine this scenario: it’s a tribute to someone who died. Maybe this person, in their grief, took a walk and picked up a fallen camellia blossom and set it on the rock and stood looking at it and realized it needed something else with it, and pretty soon a little memorial was assembled, and then it only seemed right to come back and tend to it, as the flowers wilted and the leaves withered and the forest kept growing and pushing out more stalks and buds and cones to take their place.
I can also imagine it as a stand against loneliness, perhaps started when we were all trying to stay six feet away from each other. Put a leaf down, let someone else come along and set down a lichen-covered branch, then another walker-in-the-forest puts down an acorn, and pretty soon you’re all talking to each other, sort of, across an intangible distance, which was about the best anyone could manage at the time.
Or it could be that someone is simply the self-declared artist-in-residence of this rock, taking secret satisfaction in the obscure daily toil of making a floral arrangement out of whatever detritus shakes out of this bit of foresty park land. In that sense, it’s the perfect unofficial artist’s residency: it’s an art show that has no deadline, no opening night reception, no artist statement, no social media presence, and no red dots.
I hope I don’t find out who’s making this, or why. If you know, don’t tell me. It’s better to wonder about it.
Hey, I’m writing a new book
Some personal news, as they say: I’m writing a book called STATE BIRD, to be published by Norton in 2027. I’m going to trace the weird history of how we started electing state birds (it appears that I’ve made a discovery about this that no one else knows, which is thrilling to me), and cover some of the absurd political battles that have erupted over the choice of state bird (I’m looking at you, Florida), and tell some of the truly amazing conservation stories that have come about because we engaged in this peculiar civic exercise of choosing a bird to represent us.
It’s a delightful project that involves a ridiculous amount of research and the opportunity for many amazing road trips. Next week I’m headed to New Mexico, Arizona, and Florida, and then I’ll be home for a breather and gone again. I won’t travel to every state in the country this year, but I’ll be hitting some highlights and hopefully I’ll have some stories to share from the road.
If you have an interesting state bird story of any kind, hit me up!
I’m going to show you how I drew this picture
Supporters this week are getting a little step-by-step slide show on how I drew this illustration. These ideas will work for any kind of still life. And then, for the next three or four weeks, we’re going to cover the basics of watercolor.
For just a few bucks a month, you can join us, get these tutorials in your inbox once a week, and support this whole enterprise. You’ll also get access to quite a substantial archive aimed at helping you to do just about anything in a sketchbook. Join us!
The bit at the end
Order signed copies of my new book, The Tree Collectors, from Broadway Books here in Portland.
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The state emblems and symbols are such a wonderful way to introduce state history to a young child. I'm going to be searching my files for the art my children produced when they were learning all of Colorado's emblems and symbols. My mother, a long-time square dancer, was especially proud of Colorado's state dance.
My grandparents were "birders" whose vacation slide shows were often full frames of leaves and grandpa having to point out the speck that was subject of the picture, a bird they would only see in the location they traveled to. If you haven't seen The Big Year (movie) it's quietly delightful.
I love it when folks leave their nature arrangements around. My neighborhood recently had a memorial put together with sticks, by kids, whose tree was having to be taken down. Another kid in the neighborhood created a rock "snake" on the curb in front of their house that became quite long with others adding to it. I also once came upon a gorgeously arranged floral arrangement of fallen blooms at the rhododendron garden.